Like An Unloaded Gun
by ImmaBeatYouWithaCrowbar
Summary: "When I watched you kids run off into the darkness, I'd been pretty damned sure I'd just made one of the worst mistakes of my life." Dally's take on the four points of no return.
1. Stupid Kids Doing Stupid Things

A/N: Hey, Outies, I'm back! I know you guys didn't miss me, but I'll be damned if I'm not around to annoy you guys every now and then. I took down my story _In the Last Game_ because I decided that that really was _not_ the best writing I'd ever done in my life and was therefore an embarrassment. Still, what FanFiction Outie can be a true FanFiction Outie without having a rewrite of Dally's death through his perspective? xD So, this story is a remake of _In the Last Game, _with a lot more story and a lot less typos! In fact, it's almost become like a side fic to _They Call Me Spineless,_ so there will be some references to that. Anyway, remember, criticism and reviews are always welcome!

When I watched you kids run off into the darkness, I'd been pretty damned sure I'd just made one of the worst mistakes of my life.

I hoped you didn't take it personally, Johnny, but if you got caught (you were both smart kids, but, god_damn,_ could you be idiots), there was no way the popos wouldn't know I'd helped you out. I'd left traces of myself all over you, what with you toting my _brand new_ loaded gun and Ponyboy wrapped up all nice in my leather jacket. And, dammit, that was my _good_ leather jacket, the one I only ever wore to parties. I probably wasn't gonna get it back.

Those were just excuses, though. The real reason why I was beating myself up over this wasn't because I hadn't done a hell of a job covering myself. Every time _anything_ happened on this side of town, the fuzz knew it had something to do with me. They'd already hauled me in yesterday and questioned me, and though they couldn't prove anything, I was sure they knew I was in on it. I wasn't really upset about the heater or the jacket, either. Both things were stolen and I could just as easily lift myself some more. But still, the fact that I had _bothered_ to take those risks…that I had been _willing_ to sacrifice some of my prize items…

Those things were definite problems.

I shouldn't have helped you. It was a stupid thing to do. Especially when I knew the kind of hot water it could put me in.

And, lemme tell you, the water I was in right now was near to boiling.

Freakishly muscular arms with hands clamped around the arms of the chair I was sitting in so I couldn't get away. Body like a barrier right in front of me, making sure I stayed where I was. Burning blue-green eyes drilling holes into mine. Face so close I could feel his hot breath on my own face.

Darrell Patrick Curtis the Second was _not_ fucking around.

Dammit, Johnny, what had you gotten me into? No, wait: what had I _let_ you get me into?

Sodapop stood a little behind Superman (who I was seeing as a bit more of a Hulk at that particular moment), just watching us. I wondered if they were going to try the good cop, bad cop routine. If so, Soda could hit me across the face with a wrench and still be the good cop, because Darry was setting the bad cop standard pretty high just by the look he was giving me.

_"Where are they?"_ he hissed at me.

It was a wonder how smart Darry could be sometimes. Not even three days had passed. Between me being at the police station and the police being at their house, this was the first time I'd even _seen_ him since I'd sent you two off. How was it that he had already connected the dots?

There was probably no use in denying it, but had Dallas Winston ever confessed to anything? "If you're talking about the kids, I don't know any more than you do," I replied, glaring back at him. I was too smart to take Darry on, especially with Soda there backing him up, but I wasn't going to back down like the trapped animal I knew I was. I'd rather take the beating that was probably in store for me than back down and give Darry power over me.

"Don't play dumb with me, Dallas," Darry said in a low, dangerous voice. He used my full name, something he only ever did when he was dead-serious. "You know where they are and you're gonna _tell_ me, or so help me god I'll-"

Whenever someone was saying something I didn't want to hear, I had a tendency to tune them out - and, glory, even though I knew it was a bluff, I did _not_ want to hear what Darry was promising to do to me. When I was certain he was through talking, I started listening again. I must have been silent a moment too long, because Darry whipped around, nearly knocking my chair down in the process. Johnny, could you please explain to me _why_ I'd thought it would be a good idea to go to the Curtis house?

After a moment of hesitation, Sodapop took a step forward. I knew it; the cops were switching out.

Soda was holding something in his hands. It looked like a sweatshirt, and, after a moment, I realized it was. It was the sleeveless one Ponyboy had been wearing the night Johnny killed that Soc, the one he'd taken off because it had been wet and had left…at…oh, shit. So Darry hadn't put two and two together; he actually had evidence that would condemn me.

Well, damn, if I hadn't left a bread crumb trail leading right _to_ my fucking front door…

"I went over to Buck's this morning to ask him if I could borrow a few bucks," Soda said, switching the bunched-up sweatshirt from hand to hand. His dark brown eyes, much calmer than Darry's blue-green ones but none the less serious, levelly held my gaze. "He told me I could if I went and cleaned up that pig sty you'd left of the room he'd been letting you borrow for the past few nights. I found this. Ponyboy was wearing it when…when…" He was silent a second, and a tremble ran through his body. There was a flicker in his face - a crack in his composure - and he hurled the sweatshirt to the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, obviously struggling to cool himself. "You'd better have a damn good explanation."

I didn't, and I was pretty sure all three of us knew that. I couldn't exactly explain without confessing, so I stayed silent.

"Dallas, you had better start talking," Darry warned.

He was bluffing.

His eyes narrowed.

He was bluffing.

He took a dangerous step towards me.

Jesus Christ, I hoped he was bluffing.

When I still wouldn't speak, he let out a furious yell. I have expected him to lunge at me and rip my throat out with his bare hands, but instead he whirled and slammed his fist into the wall. His hand disappeared into the drywall, and a small white cloud burst away from the wall. After a moment of silence, he yanked his hand from the freshly-made hole in the wall. He snarled something about going to ask Buck some questions (which meant he was gonna go make the poor guy fear for his life) and stormed out the door.

Soda and I both stayed silent and still, not sure what to do, not sure what to say. Finally, I decided that it wouldn't have been the worst idea to leave. As soon as I stood, though, Soda said, "Wait."

I should've just left.

But I waited.

Soda left the room, then came back a few minutes later with some money and a piece of paper. He sat down at the table in the middle of the room, picked up a teeth-mark-scarred pencil, and began to write. I was standing there for a full five minutes before Soda finally set the pencil down and folded up the piece of paper. "Give this to Ponyboy." He walked up to me and tried to give me the money and the note.

I stepped away, shaking my head. "I already told you, I don't know where-"

"Don't you get the _point,_ Dally, we know you're lying." Soda's sudden change of tone made me realize that he was close to snapping. He was just as wound up as Darry was but was struggling to hold it in with everything he had, but I knew what would happen if I denied him this. So, when Sodapop held the money and the piece of paper towards me again, I accepted them without a word.

_Stupid kids,_ was all I could think as I walked out the door. _Stupid kids doing stupid things, getting themselves caught up in such stupid situations…_

And, deep down, I knew I wasn't talking about you and Pony.

I was talking about myself.


	2. It Was My Job

**A/N: Well, thus far, this story is doing better than **_**In The Last Game!**_** Thanks for the great reviews, you guys, I really do appreciate them. I'm starting to regret having almost completely skipped over Johnny and Ponyboy going to see Dally after killing Bob, but what's done is done. There's not much I can do other than to go on, sooo…I'm going on. xD So, remember, criticism and reviews are always appreciated!**

Damn it, kid.

God_damn_ it, kid.

You knew your parents didn't give two cents about you. From the very beginning, you knew they'd never give half of a single cent about you. So why'd you have to go and ask me about them? I even gave you the chance to back off, trying to change the subject, but you just wouldn't drop it, would you? Why'd you make _me_ be the one to hurt you like that?

I hated looking at you in the rearview mirror, seeing your eyes broken all over again. Something you should know, kid, is that your spirit's like your nose: break it once, and it'll never look the same again. So quit letting people break you like that! I was your role model, wasn't I? Hell of a one you picked, but if you wanted to be like me, then you needed to _act_ like me. You needed to get smart and get tough. The only way to do that was to let the blisters callous rather than lotioning them up just so they could blister all over again. You were an idiot for setting yourself up for all that hurt and disappointment.

But if I really wanted you to change, I wouldn't keep trying to soften the blow, now, would I? I wouldn't try to be smart for you so you could stay dumb…except I was starting to get a little dumb, too, you know that? I wasn't blind enough not to see that I care about you. God, you were turning me into an idiot, kid.

"Blast it, Johnny," I said, trying to keep the concerned snap out of my voice, "what do they matter? Shoot, my old man don't give a hang whether I'm in jail or dead in a car wreck or drunk in the gutter. That don't bother me none."

I glanced up into the rearview mirror, hoping to see you at least slightly better. But still you just kept sitting there, your shaking hands in your lap, your broken eyes staring down into your lap. No wonder you were so scarred. You broke way too easily. If only you could toughen up…

No. If only I could protect you a little better.

Wanting to get your attention (and mine) away from the subject, I started Buck's T-Bird, trying to think of something else to say. All I could come up with was what you said back in the DQ - _"We're going back and turning ourselves in."_

That did the trick. I found myself getting a little annoyed with you, and I started cussing. "Blast it, Johnny, why didn't you think of turning yourself in five days ago? It would have saved a lot of trouble." I couldn't stop myself from thinking about the cops hauling me into the station to question me and being in and out of the Curtis residence for days; Darry's fist flying into the wall and Soda's dead-serious gaze; Steve's unusually bitter mood swings and me having to steal Two-Bit's keys to keep him from following the false lead I gave the cops. (Speaking of which, I still had his keys in my back pocket. Think I should give 'em back, Johnnycake? His ride wasn't exactly a Mustang, but it wasn't too shabby, either.)

"I was scared," you said quietly. You were pulling at my heartstrings a way no one else could, kiddo. I hated you for that, but it was too late to stop caring about you. "I still am."

Ah, Johnny, you had to stop being so scared. I started scowling at the thought. You scared too easy. You were scared of all broads, you were scared of a lot of boys, you were scared of Socs and rings and alcohol and violence. You couldn't live in fear all the time. You saw that, didn't you? Living in fear was no way to live, and it wasn't as if I was gonna let you die.

And…oh, shit, kid you thought I was angry at you.

"Johnny…Johnny, I ain't mad at you!" I blurted without thinking, and there was a please in my voice that I hated myself for. I couldn't seem to stop myself, though. I hated seeing you looking like that, so worried and begging! And I hated the thought of what people would _do_ to someone like you in jail. You'd never be Johnnycake again. Couldn't you _understand_ that? "I just don't want you to get hurt," I continued in that same, almost scared-sounding voice. I was getting frustrated at you for not. Fucking. Understanding! "You don't know what a few months in jail can do to you."

Without thinking, I punched the staring wheel. I saw you flinch, but you looked more relieved than anything. I guessed you were glad to hear I wasn't angry at you. "Oh, blast it, Johnny…you get hardened in jail. I don't want that to happen to you. Like it happened to me."

And, for the first time, I remembered Ponyboy was in the backseat, too. The kid was staring at me, shell-shocked. Damn you, Johnny, what were you turning me into?

And how could you stare at me so levelly? _You didn't know what you were getting yourself into!_ "Would you rather have me living in hide-outs for the rest of my life," you said almost too reasonably, "always on the run?"

Hell yes I would.

I was about to tell you that, too, had I not noticed something up ahead. "Oh, glory!" I slammed on the brakes, and you and Ponyboy were jolted forward. I just sat there, staring ahead in shock, as you and Ponyboy tried to gather your wits and about you and figure out what was going on. I looked up at you through the rearview mirror. It was almost comical, seeing you two notice the burning church at the exact same moment, how your eyes widened and your jaws hit the ground at the same time. I would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so serious.

Ponyboy's hand going for the door caught my attention. The idiot wouldn't. There was no way he was stupid enough to-

"Let's go see what the deal is," he said, jumping out of the car.

Okay, so maybe he was.

"What for?" I called after him, thoroughly irritated. "Get back in here before I beat your head in!" It was an empty threat, and Ponyboy seemed to call the bluff, because he just kept going. And then I saw you moving. Now I was certain that there was _no_ way, no _fucking_ way that you could be just as stupid-

And again I was wrong.

I couldn't think of anything more to do than yell and cuss at you two idiots as I was forced to coast forward in the car. I bet the two of you didn't think I was going to park it and chase you. Oh, you little shitheads, watch me prove you wrong for once.

As I put the T-Bird into park, I saw you two talking to some fat guy. I couldn't believe that the lot of you could be so calm when there were kids screaming inside the burning church. You probably didn't hear them, I figured, but how could you _not?_

I jumped out of the car, determined to knock your heads together and drag the two of you back to the T-Bird before you got any wise ideas. I bolted towards you, planning on reaching you before you heard the screaming kids (because you two were stupid enough to try and help them, I knew you were), but I was a minute too late. I knew you guys heard them when your bodies went so stiff, and when you turned towards the church.

And I heard Ponyboy (oooohh, you could bet I was gonna kill the idiot) yell, "I'll get them! Don't worry!"

And then you started after him. You could bet I was gonna kill you, too.

I ran faster then than I ever had before. I could just imagine you in that fire, kid, and not in the friendly, save-the-day hero fashion I was sure you were aiming for. I could see you screaming, panicking, dying…and like hell was I going to let that happen. Johnnycake, I had a rep to uphold so you had better not go around telling, but I'd rather die than see you get hurt. Let Ponyboy get himself killed. I guessed it would bother me a bit, but not nearly as much as _you_ getting _yourself_ killed.

I was lucky that I was a faster runner than you on an average day, because you hadn't quite managed to reach the church when I caught you by the back of your jeans jacket. You tried to shake free, but did you honestly think I was going to let you go? I yanked you back towards me, hissing, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

You went stiff when you realized it was me holding you back. You looked back at me with those wide, frightened eyes, but yes, kid, you could _bet_ that I was pissed at you this time.

"But what about those kids?" you cried, but you didn't struggle as I began to pull you back. You were begging me to let you go, but I wasn't going to do that.

"Screw them!" I hollered at you. If I had anything to say about it, kid, you were _not_ going into that fire. You might not like it, but you were the one thing in the entire world that had managed to worm its way into my heart. So, like it or not, it was my job to make sure that I didn't lose that one thing. I told you, Johnny, I fucking _told_ you that I didn't want you to end up hurt and shattered. You were a little _bastard_ for taking something like that so lightly. You didn't toy with people like that - especially not me, because you were the only one that could toy with me like that!

Kid, when I said I would die for you, _I fucking meant it._

"I'm sorry, Dal," you said suddenly, catching me off-guard.

What?

Before I knew what was happening, your elbow was coming back. It hit me square in the gut. It didn't really hurt, but I was shocked. I'd never seen you hit anyone outside of a rumble before, let alone me. How could you hit _me?_

_FUCK,_ I thought in horror, realizing I'd loosened my grip on you. I tightened it immediately, but you were already gone. _"Goddammit, Johnny!"_ I screamed after you, immediately taking off after you. But you were already through the window after Ponyboy. I wasn't exactly a big guy, but I wasn't as small as you and Pony. I couldn't fit through that window if I tried. So, I abandoned it, letting that fat man take my spot.

I had to find another way around to you. The screaming was coming from the back of the church, so that was where you were headed. Without a second thought, I took off towards the back of the church. A group of people followed me (to do what? Watch helplessly and moan?), and by the time I got back there, the two of you were already dropping the snot-nosed brats out the window. I saw you lean out the window, your face smudged with black and your hair singed but with a fervent grin stretching your lips.

My god, you were _enjoying_ this.

I skidded to a halt by the time you disappeared back inside the place. Ponyboy heaved a kid out the window then. "For Pete's sake," I yelled at him, "get outta there! That roof's gonna cave in any minute! Forget those blasted kids!"

I was racing towards the window now, pushing the kids out of the way. Ponyboy handed another one out to me as if I was _willing_ to help. I dropped the brat, then felt my heart jump at a loud groaning sound. _"Get out!"_ I screamed the same time you did. The front of the church was coming down, dragging the rest of it quickly with it.

It was a symphony of crashing then. I couldn't tell what was coming down where. Ponyboy jumped out the window, and I actually thought that the kid didn't know he was on fire. The back of his jacket (my _good_ leather jacket that I couldn't bring myself to care about) had managed to catch onto a flame. I whacked him, quickly putting the small flame out…but putting the kid out, too. He went down and didn't get back up, and I knew he'd lost consciousness.

I didn't have time to care. I whirled to help you out the window…but all I could see was flaming timber.

The roof had given in right over your head.

_No,_ was all I could think, my heart pounding in my ears. I felt frozen to the spot. _No. No. No._ I could do nothing but stand there and stare, unable to hear anything but my own heartbeat, watching the fire slowly dance as if time itself was struggling through a sea of molasses. Each second dragged on for an eternity…I knew you were dying, Johnny, I could _feel_ you dying…the one thing that had managed to get into my heart was slipping away from me…

And, faintly, I heard you screaming.

I didn't know what kicked in inside me at that moment, but something did. I wasn't small enough to fit through that window, but I was damn well _going to try._ I lunged at it and couldn't get more than my torso through, but I could see you. You were trapped beneath some of the flaming wood, screaming and writhing. I reached for you. The shoulder of your burning jeans jacket was barely outside of my reach.

I dug my feet against the ground outside and shoved one of my hands against the window frame, pushing myself as far in as possible. I reached for you for all I was worth. My fingers barely grazed your jacket. I could feel my arm trying to pull itself out of its socket, but I couldn't give less of a damn.

Suddenly, the fire jumped to my sleeve. My new leather jacket protected it, but it wouldn't for long. I didn't care.

You needed me. You needed me, you needed me, you needed me, and, god, _I_ _needed you._ Yes, Johnny, I knew that I cared about you…but before that moment, I had never realized just how much.

You hadn't just turned me into an idiot, kid. You'd stripped me of every last shred of common sense a man was naturally born with and smarts he picks up along the streets.

The fire grabbed at my skin.

I hated you, Johnny.

But I loved you like I imagine a father should love his son.

_My arm on fire it was burning it hurt like hell it hurt it hurt it hurt oh god how could something hurt this badly it fucking HURT-_

I got a grip on your jacket. Quickly, I dragged you towards me, then wrapped an arms around your chest. The fire from you jumped onto my, but, kid, I just did _not fucking care._

Immediately, I ran my knees into the wall of the church, flinging the two of us back out the window. I hit the cool grass, suddenly aware that I was screaming. Some man that I didn't recognize quickly pulled me away from you and put out the fire on me. I just kept trying to get back to you. I was light-headed and pretty confident that I was going to throw up those three DQ hamburgers, but I'd be damned if I wasn't going to get to you.

By the time I could finally see you (damn man for blocking my view and damn world for spinning so much), the fat man had already finished putting you out. The second I saw you, actually _saw_ you, I suddenly couldn't breathe.

I could feel it then, like some kind of sixth sense.

I was too late.

I was going to lose you.


	3. Poof, Like a Ghost

**A/N: Hi, guys! It's been a, um…it's been a bit of a minute since I've last been around, huh? (It's been over a year but who's keeping count. ^.^') I actually left the world of fan fiction for a while to work on some original stuff, and I returned to it recently under a new account, where I've been focusing on Harry Potter more than anything else. I decided to touch base with my old account, though, and I realized that I hadn't finished this story, despite how much I liked it. So, I decided for old times' (and Dally's) sake, I'd finish it. Bear with me on this one, guys; a year can change a lot. Even though I attribute a different writing style to my POV fics, my writing style in general has changed a lot, and I haven't read the book in a while, so I might not be conveying Dally nearly as well as I used to. I give you my word, I'll do my very best! We Hufflepuffs never go back on our word. Anyway…**

**Oh, my god, it's been so long that I can't remember my catch phrase. I said this at the end of every author's note I have ever written…what is wrong with me?!**

**After going back and checking other stories: Anyway, remember, criticism and reviews are always welcome! (And I apologize for the freakishly long author's note.)**

Breaking out of the hospital wasn't half as hard as people said it was.

You were lucky I was already planning to ditch it for the rumble. Double lucky that I stopped by to see you before I did. I never would've brought Pony back up with me to see you if you hadn't asked me to.

I would've made it on time to the rumble, too, but of all things, traffic held me up. I ended up parking the T-bird down the street from the rumble (didn't want Merril breathing down my neck for any dings or dents) and joined the fight just in time for it to end. Just my fucking luck, huh?

I managed to find Pony pretty quick in the flurry of fists and feet and greasy hair and torn madras. The kid took a beating; he was pretty helpless without you there to back him up, Johnny.

When it was all over, I stood there and waited for Pony to get up. The kid looked kind of roughed up, so I was being a little patient with him, and, Johnny, you know I wasn't _ever_ patient. Especially when we had to get up to you. But the kid just kept laying there like a rag doll, and my frustration won out. I grabbed Pony by the front of his shirt, hauling his whiny white ass to his feet. "Come on," I snapped at him, yanking him towards the end of the street where I'd stashed Buck Merril's T-Bird.

The kid looked all confused. For being so smart, I couldn't believe how stupid he was. "We're goin' to see Johnny," I told him.

All the way down the street, Pony kept stumbling. Even though my hands hurt from beating around Socs, I almost felt like whacking the kid for wasting so much of your time. You better not tell anyone this, kid, but I was scared. I kept telling myself I was an idiot, but I was scared 'cause I felt like you were close to disappearing. Poof, like a ghost. Like…I don't know, kid, I ain't good with words.

I gave Pony a good hard shove, but that only knocked him over again. Glory, if you hadn't asked me to haul him up there, I would have left him there to rot.

"Hurry," I said. "He was getting' worse when I left." The kid was still moving at a snail's pace. I was about to start treating him like the dog my old man used to have, taking the ugly mutt out for walks only to drag it by the leash and half-strangle it. "He wants to see you," I added angrily, hoping guilt would get him going.

Hell of a best friend you picked, kid. He just kept lollygagging along.

Eventually, the kid practically fell into the passenger seat of the T-bird. Fresh out of sunshine and patience, I sent that car like a bullet towards the hospital. But we'd only made it about halfway there when, of fucking course, we got stopped by some high-and-mighty fuzz ready to get his daily shits and giggles in.

"Look sick," I ordered Pony. Finally, something the lump of potatoes could come in use for. "I'll say I'm taking you to the hospital, which'll be truth enough."

The kid practically passed out on the car window with a groan. Either Ponyboy was a hell of an actor, or he was a bit worse off than I first thought. Either way, I didn't really care.

I looked up at the policeman as he came up to the window. He saw the rundown car and your greasy hair, and I could see that he'd already written us off as trash. I'd be madder about it if he wasn't right. "Alright, buddy," he snarled, raising a cheeky eyebrow at me. How I wished I could wipe the smug scowl off his face. "Where's the fire?"

Oh, of all the fucking things he could have said-

I stuffed back my rage. I only do things like that for you, Johnny. You're a freaking inconvenience to me. Keep that in mind next time you think about putting me in a spot like this, you little prick.

"That kid," I said, jerking a thumb at Pony. "He fell over on his motorcycle-" Sounded like a stupid enough for him to do. "-and I'm takin' him to the hospital."

Pony groaned again, and the fuzz started whistling a new tune. "Is he real bad?" he asked, trying to sound like he gave a shit. "Do you need an escort?"

The guy was pissing me off something awful. "How would I know if he's bad or not? I ain't no doc." Then I realized what exactly he said. "Yeah, we could use an escort." And because he had to feel like a hero, he got back into his car, turned on his lights, and started racing towards the hospital. "Sucker," I hissed, flooring the gas pedal after the moron.

After a second, I looked over at Ponyboy. For the first time, I felt a little soft towards the kid. His eyes were still closed, and I would've thought he'd passed out if it wasn't for his groaning and mumbling. The kid was hurt something awful. Maybe we'd actually get him a bit of help from a doctor after we finished visiting you.

Something about seeing him like this reminded me too much of you, Johnny, back when we found you crumpled up in the lot. I swallowed thickly, glancing back and forth between the kid and the cop's taillights. After a moment, I decided it might not do the kid too much bad to give him a bit of advice. He was a stupid one, Johnny, stupider than even you, but maybe all he needed was a proper guide. Darry and Soda babied him too much.

"I was crazy, you know that, kid? Crazy for wantin' Johnny to stay outa trouble, for not wantin' him to get hard. If he'd been like me he'd never have been in this mess. If he'd got smart like me he'd never have run into that church." I was speaking empty words, because I knew for all the pain and suffering in the world, Johnny would never be like me. He was too soft, too open-eyed, too easy to break. But maybe Pony could be different. Maybe I could actually save Pony, so I could make up for not saving you. "That's what you get for helpin' people," I pointed out, giving him a sharp look. He didn't even notice. "Editorials in the paper and a lot of trouble. It ain't worth it, kid, because the same people in those editorials will be calling you crooks in just two days' time. The world ain't nice, so you'd better wise up, Pony. You have to stop being such a baby. Grow up. You get tough like me and you don't get hurt." Unless he happened to meet a big black-eyed boy with a jean jacket and a scarred spirit. Then he'd get all kinds of hurt, in ways he wouldn't know how to deal with. "You get tough like me and nothin' can touch you…"

Oh, goddamn it, Ponyboy wasn't even listening.

All pity for the kid stopped right then and there. I was trying to be nice to him for the first time in my life, and he can't even listen.

"Whatever, kid," I snarled at him. "Just don't say I didn't tell you so."

After that, we made it to the hospital in no time. I didn't even bother to thank the fuzz for being so "gracious." I just ran over to Pony's side and helped him out. I supported him, keeping an eye on the policeman, waiting for him to leave.

Before he was even around the corner, I dropped Pony like a good habit and bolted towards the hospital. "Hurry!" I yelled back at the idiot, who was having to pull himself back together after nearly taking a face plant to the ground. I made it to the doors and had to wait a good half a minute for the kid to finally catch up. I was trying to be patient with him, but god_damn_ he was taking his sweet time.

It felt like there were too many obstacles in the way. Women holding crying babies and black-eyed drunks were all over the lobby, and they weren't too pleased with me shoving them out of my way. Then, there was a crowded elevator. Then, there were nurses trying to be too nice and help the kid. At least Pony had the good sense to stick to my back…or at least stumble in an attempt to.

And, when I finally had your room in my sight, a doctor stepped in front of me.

Who the _hell_ did he think he was?

I was about to give the guy a good whack in the face when he figuratively beat me to the punch. "I'm sorry, boys," he dead panned, staring me levelly in the eye, " but he's dying."

I felt something inside my snap. Half-instinct and half-desperation, I flicked out the knife Two-Bit let me borrow. "We're gonna see him," I tried to snarl in the most intimidating voice I could but managed nothing more than a trembling choke, "and if you give me any static you'll end up on your own operatin' table."

You wouldn't die before I saw you one last time. You wouldn't die at all if I had anything to say about it.

The doctor must've seen how shaken I was, because he wasn't backing down at all. "You can see him, but it's because you're his friends, not because of that knife."

Like hell it was. Nobody was that nice, especially in the face of a switch.

The doctor stepped out of the way, and I pocketed the knife and pushed open your door.

Jesus Christ, Johnnycake, you looked like a stiff.

"Johnnycake?" I blurted before I could stop myself, sounding like a pussywillow. I _hated_ you for making me like this, brat. Couldn't you see how much you scared me? Didn't you know how much I hated showing other people I was scared? How much I hated _actually being fucking scared?_ It ain't something I'd ever been used to, Johnny, and I just didn't know how to deal with it. You inconsiderate little brat.

But I still cared about you, kid. Another reason why I hated you so much.

I ran up to you while Pony just stood in the doorway like the selfish, woe-is-me prick he was. I didn't even think about Pony for more than a second; the way you were looking was scaring the shit out of me. There were dark circles under your eyes, which hadn't been there before the rumble. You were shaking all over and sweating something awful. You didn't look good, kid, and I wasn't feeling too hot either.

Finally, though, you opened up your eyes and looked at me. There was something in your eyes, Johnny, something in those big black unscared eyes that looked like it could be gone any second.

Poof.

Like a ghost.

Kid, if you _died_ and fucking _left me here to rot,_ I swear to _God_ I'd-

"Hey," you croaked at me. I could tell that you weren't all there; your eyes didn't look too focused.

I swallowed thickly, trying to keep calm. Jesus Christ, Johnny, didn't you know that Dallas Winston ain't a calm guy? Why did you keep doing those things to me? Were you just _trying_ to screw me up?

Whether you were or not, I couldn't say I'd honestly care. You were looking something awful, kid, and I just couldn't shake the feeling that you were going to pull some great vanishing act on me. I felt like I was running out of time, and I needed to make you smile. (Goddamn it, kid, all I _ever_ did for you was look out for you.)

"We won," I gasped at you. Why was I gasping? "We beat the Socs. We stomped them – chased them outta our territory."

"Useless," you replied weakly, and I felt like I'd just been hit in the gut with a slugger. Couldn't you cut me some slack? Just _once? _"Fighting's no good…"

I couldn't let you go without you being happy. You _couldn't_ disappear without smiling one more time, Johnnycake. You never smiled anymore. If I couldn't get you to smile right fucking now, then I was a complete failure of human being. Oh, for Christ's sake, since when was I tying all that in with you? Since when did you control my life? How come I never noticed you turning me into this whipped-cream-soft pussywillow, Johnnycake?

Why did I see it and not do anything to stop it?

Oh, kid, you couldn't fucking die on me.

"They're still writing editorials about you in the newspaper. For being a hero and all," I tried again, just wanting to get you to smile. "Yeah, they're calling you a hero now and heroizing all the greasers." Oh, god_damn_ it, kid, _why weren't you smiling?!_ Desperately, I added, "We're all proud of you, buddy."

That did the trick. You actually smiled.

I felt like a dad holding his kid on his shoulders after a Little League match. It shouldn't have made me so happy just to see you smile, shouldn't have made me feel like I did at least one good thing. But it did, kid. By God, it did. For once, I was actually able to do something good for you. Now, you wouldn't have to be so disappointed in me all the time.

But even though I managed that small thing, it wasn't me you called over.

It wasn't me you wasted your words on, Johnny.

It was Ponyboy.

Instead of the guy who watched your back every fucking step along the way, the guy who protected you in the school hallways and jumped the Soc that tagged your locker and tried to give you a better life and tried to give you advice and did everything in his fucking power to make sure you turned out better than he did, it was Ponyboy. It was the brat that pulled you into this whole fucking mess in the first place.

What the hell, Johnny?

Do you just _enjoy_ stabbing me in the back all the time?

What in the…oh, hell, Johnny, _you weren't breathing anymore._

Pony stumbled back a step. I knew he was in that shock, blah, blah, blah, whatever excuse doctors use when people aren't quick enough to pick up on what happened. But me, kid, I knew. I knew the second I noticed you weren't breathing anymore.

You were dead as a door nail.

Poof.

Like.

A goddamn.

_Ghost._

Rather mindlessly, I reached forward and pushed your hair back. "Never could keep that hair back," I murmured, feeling like all the rest of the world around me had shut out. I barely even remembered speaking the words. I felt light all of a sudden, like some heavy weight just got cut from my shoulders. I had a sudden crazy thought about flying away like a balloon. Maybe it was what I deserved for being so stupid and not taking my own advice. "That's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get…"

This was what I got for trying to help you.

This was what I fucking got.

And suddenly, it felt like the entire world came crashing down on my back. The light feeling was gone in the blink of an eye, and I realized I wasn't going to float away. No, I was going to drown like I had cinderblocks tied around my feet. Without you there to keep my above the surface, kid, I was going to drown like the pathetic fool I was.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet. I was on the wall in a second, my body screaming from the impact and my mouth screaming words my mind couldn't even understand. The next thing I knew, I was in Buck Merril's T-bird. I didn't know how or when I got there or what I was going to do, but I jammed the keys into the ignition and tore off into the streets.

The night was still young, Johnnycake. Just like you.

And just like you, that was the last way I'd ever see it.


End file.
